


Everything Else In Between

by Yassandra



Category: Atlantis (UK TV)
Genre: Angst, Community: smallfandombang, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-28
Updated: 2016-04-28
Packaged: 2018-06-04 21:14:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6675670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yassandra/pseuds/Yassandra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jason never asked to be thrust into Atlantis and separated from the world he grew up in. Set adrift in a strange time and place that he doesn't understand, reality bites and bites hard. They say that grief comes in five stages. Fortunately for Jason he has Pythagoras to help him through them.</p><p>A story told through a series of conversations between two friends.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Denial

**Author's Note:**

> Written for round five of the Small Fandoms Bang, and also for Hurt/Comfort Bingo for the 'taking care of somebody' prompt.
> 
> Please go and check out the lovely artwork by Gryph [here](http://gryphon2k.livejournal.com/286526.html), [or here on AO3](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6677662), and give the artist some appreciation too :-) 
> 
> The art is integrated into the fic.
> 
> This fic is set throughout the first series - I hope the time frame makes sense.

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

This was without doubt the longest and most detailed dream that Jason had ever had. Because it had to be a dream, right? There was no way whatsoever that this could be reality! What was it he had said to Pythagoras? _Either I’m dreaming… or I’m hallucinating… or I’m dead_. It really had to be one of the three – and of the three options he was really hoping for it being a dream (because the idea that he was hallucinating was not an attractive one and the final option didn’t really bear thinking about).

“Are you alright?”

Pythagoras had crept up behind him on the balcony without him really being aware of his presence.

“Yes,” Jason answered shortly, not really in the mood to talk to anyone – especially someone who was quite clearly a figment of his overactive imagination; a creation of his subconscious; an impossible imagining borne of electrical impulses within his sleeping brain (although _why_ he had given this creation the name Pythagoras was anybody’s guess – after all he had never really been all _that_ fond of maths in school).

It was night time. Jason had killed the Minotaur this morning (not that he had really killed the Minotaur of course – what with this being a dream and all) and in the hours that had followed he had allowed himself to be swept along by the euphoria and adrenaline of it all. Now though reality was biting and biting hard as all the turmoil of the last few days crept up on him and threatened to drive him under.

This could not be real – he could not allow it to be real – because if it was then it meant that he really was trapped thousands of years in the past (or in a parallel universe because he really wasn’t sure which it was that his mind had conjured), separated from everything he had ever known and with no way of getting back. No, the whole thing was clearly impossible and the sooner he woke up from this dream the better it would be.

“You seem troubled,” Pythagoras pointed out gently. “I know we have not known each other for very long but with everything that has happened I would like to believe that you felt you could talk to me. We all need someone to talk to now and again.”

Jason snorted – a sharp, bitter sound.

“You have no idea,” he said.

“No,” Pythagoras said calmly, coming to stand alongside him. “I do not. I cannot help you if you are not willing to let me. You have done so much for me… for all of us. I would like to have the opportunity to repay you. I, above all people, owe you so much.”

“You owe me nothing,” Jason protested. “You saved my life and offered me somewhere to stay. Opened your home to a complete stranger. I’ve never met anyone so kind and welcoming.”

“I did nothing that I would not do again,” Pythagoras answered with a soft smile. “And since you offered your life for mine as a sacrifice and saved us all in such a spectacular fashion in the labyrinth, I would suggest that we call it even. Now what troubles you my friend?”

“How can you call me friend when you don’t even know me?”

Pythagoras felt a surge of sorrow at the ache he heard in his companion’s voice. Whatever was troubling Jason he suspected that it ran deep. The young mathematician was a healer to the tips of his fingers and desperately wanted the chance to fix whatever was wrong with Jason right now. He had always hated seeing anyone around him being hurt or sad. Gently he placed his hand on his new friend’s arm, trying to get Jason to turn away from the street view and look at him so that he could embrace his friend properly. Pythagoras had always been a firm believer in the school of thought which said that many problems and sorrows could be banished by a good hug.

“It is true that I do not know you well yet,” Pythagoras said softly, “but I do know that you are a good man and one whom I would like to believe I can count amongst my friends… and I would like the chance to get to know you a little better.”

Jason looked down at the hand on his arm and swallowed hard. Pythagoras’ touch was warm, his fingers curling around Jason’s forearm, the skin on his palm rougher than Jason would have expected. If this was indeed a dream, then why was he putting so much detail into it? Why had he created the little mole to the left of Pythagoras’ nose? The pattern of veins that decorated the back of the mathematician’s hands? The thin leather bracelet that encircled Pythagoras’ right wrist? Surely his sleeping mind wouldn’t have gone into _that_ much depth when creating this scenario?

He closed his eyes and felt again the searing hot breath of the Minotaur on his face; tasted the salt that had encrusted his lips as he had woken up in the surf; felt the sun beating down, touching and warming his skin with its dry heat; heard the monotonous drumbeat that had led the sacrifices through the city on their way to the labyrinth; smelt the sharp tang of the spices from the market that had hit him when he had first entered the city, mixing with the hot smell of dust and people and the sweet scent of exotic perfumes to create a unique and heady mixture unlike anything he had ever smelt before.

It felt so real – and that was the problem. Much as he had never felt like he’d fitted in back in England – had always felt a bit like a square peg trying to force himself into a round hole – it was still all he had ever known; had still been the place where he had believed he had belonged. But if the Oracle was to be believed (and _if_ he accepted this was all real) the reason he had never fitted in before was because he had really belonged _here_ and not there.

He knew so little of this place though and what he had learned didn’t exactly endear him towards the society he found himself in. After all what decent, right-thinking person would accept the idea of seven people being sacrificed every year? How could everyone have accepted it as simply a matter of fact? Pythagoras had spoken so calmly of the seemingly generally held belief that Poseidon would destroy the city and everyone in it unless he was appeased. If someone who appeared to be as sensible and intelligent as Pythagoras believed that so utterly, what did that suggest about the rest of the population? Jason couldn’t quite comprehend the depth of faith that Pythagoras must have to be able to accept something so completely hideous as a fact of life.

It probably didn’t help that (for perhaps obvious reasons) Jason did not believe in the Gods of the Ancient Greek pantheon; had no faith in their supposed powers at all. In a world that seemed to be dominated by superstition and a certain fatalism – a willingness to accept that every man’s fate was determined by the Gods – how likely was it that he would fit in any better than he had where he had grown up?

“This can’t be real,” he muttered to himself.

“What cannot be real?” Pythagoras enquired gently.

“Any of it,” Jason snapped. “You; Hercules; this place… none of it.”

He tore his arm from Pythagoras’ grasp and turned his back on his companion, breathing hard.

“Jason,” Pythagoras began. “I do not understand what you mean when you say that none of this can be real and I am concerned that you might be delirious.”

Jason barked a short, bitter laugh. He really needed to wake up now, he decided. Suddenly irrationally angry at himself – at his mind – for conjuring up this quite frankly ridiculous scenario he found himself in, he punched the wall of the small house hard. The sudden flare of sharp pain from his knuckles shocked him to a standstill. It had hurt. If this was really a dream it shouldn’t have hurt; he shouldn’t have been able to feel anything. Sure the arrow in his upper arm had hurt the day before yesterday (was it really only the day before yesterday that he had arrived here?) but this was somehow different; this was pain that he had caused himself. He had half expected any attempt to harm himself would result in him waking in his own bed at home, but it hadn’t – it had hurt and _he had not woken up_.

He turned to face Pythagoras with a growing feeling of horror.

“That hurt,” he said, sounding almost surprised.

“Yes I would expect that it did,” Pythagoras answered, hands reaching forwards to try to grab Jason’s hand and inspect it for any damage. He was beginning to think that his new friend – however brave and heroic he might be – was not quite right in the head; was not quite normal.

“You don’t understand,” Jason responded in a half-broken whisper. “If this was really a dream it wouldn’t hurt.” He looked around himself, eyes lost. “I don’t understand,” he murmured sadly. “It _has_ to be a dream. I have to be dreaming… but why would I put so much detail into a dream?” He reached out and touched Pythagoras’ fluffy curls. “Why would I have imagined how your hair would feel? Or the smell in the Minotaur’s cave?” He dropped his hand down to the mathematician’s thin chest and left it there for a minute, feeling the steady thrum of Pythagoras’ heartbeat beneath his palm. “Why would I have dreamed up your heart beating?”

“You would not,” Pythagoras said. “And you did not. I do not know why you believe anything to the contrary but you are not dreaming Jason.”

“But it has to be a dream,” Jason answered plaintively. “You don’t understand,” he repeated.

“I do not understand what?” Pythagoras asked gently.

“You can’t possibly know… I just wanted to find out what had happened to my father. Nothing more than that. I _needed_ to know. One minute I’m in the sub, searching for him, and the next there was this bright light in the water and then I was waking up on the beach… and I’m in Atlantis,” Jason looked desperately at Pythagoras. “I’m in Atlantis. I’m in Ancient Greece… and everyone I’ve ever loved… everything I’ve ever known… it’s all gone… and I don’t even know how I got here so I certainly don’t know how to get back… So you see this has to be a dream because if it isn’t then I’ve lost everything.”

Pythagoras brought his hands up and covered Jason’s hand, still firmly planted on the mathematician’s chest.

“You have us,” he said softly. “I know that perhaps it cannot make up for what you have left behind but perhaps you would allow me… allow Hercules and I… and our home to act as a substitute until you can return to where you came from… if you want to of course.” He hesitated. “Perhaps the Oracle might have news of your home and how you might return there.”

“I don’t think Hercules would like me moving in permanently,” Jason responded. “He had enough trouble with me staying for a couple of nights.”

“Leave Hercules to me,” Pythagoras said. “I do not think he will mind though. Not now. Not after everything we have been through together in the last few days. His bark has always been worse than his bite but he is in his own way a loyal friend. You will have a place to stay here for as long as you might wish it.”

Jason tried to turn away again, looking to Pythagoras’ eyes like a man about to cry. Pythagoras frowned and grabbed his new friend’s arm again, pulling Jason in for a hug before he could pull away, feeling the harshness of his breathing.

“I do not understand more than half of what you are saying,” Pythagoras admitted, “but I do understand that you are lost and a long way from home.” He hesitated. “I was not born in Atlantis,” he said. “When I first came here I was only sixteen and knew no-one. All I had was the clothes I stood up in and one small bag, which was soon taken from me by men of few scruples. I know what it is to believe you have lost everything. This place… this city… may not be what you are used to but maybe you can still be happy here… at least until you find your way back to your own home.”

Jason allowed himself to soak up the affection Pythagoras was offering. Dream or not it was nice.

“I told you I didn’t really know where my home was,” he murmured.

“You did,” Pythagoras agreed, still not letting him go; still wrapping him in a gentle embrace. “You said that you had never truly felt like you had fitted in where you came from.”

“No,” Jason said. “I didn’t fit in. I’ve spent my life looking away; looking towards the horizon and dreaming about what was on the other side of it; searching for something… _more_ than what I had; never being quite satisfied with my life.”

“And now you are here,” Pythagoras said softly. “Perhaps this is a sign from the Gods. Perhaps this is the chance for you to make a fresh start somewhere where you could possibly fit in. After all Atlantis is a large city and we have people from all walks of life within our walls.”

“I don’t know anything about this place,” Jason protested, “or your Gods.” He ignored the faint gasp from Pythagoras. “How can I fit in in a place I know so little about? I don’t know what I should do. Should I be trying to go back to where I come from or should I stay and try to be happy here?”

“You have people who care for you where you come from?” Pythagoras asked. “You have family who will be awaiting your return?”

“No,” Jason answered quietly. “There’s no-one. My father was my only family… and I don’t really have friends.”

“ _I_ am your friend,” Pythagoras responded instantly with a gentle smile. Then he sobered. “It is a frightening thing… to turn your back on everything you have known before and start again. Today has been difficult… emotional… for all of us. Sleep tonight and I promise that things will not seem so bleak in the morning.” He drew back and looked appraisingly at Jason. “It does us no good to live in the past… or in the future. All we have is the here and now, so we may as well enjoy it while it lasts.”

Jason huffed a sound that seemed to be halfway between a laugh and a sob, although the corners of his mouth turned up a little. Pythagoras gave his own encouraging smile.

“Any more words of wisdom for me?” Jason asked.

“Yes actually,” Pythagoras replied.

“What are they?”

“Only this. Tonight we should not give ourselves to maudlin thoughts. Tonight we should celebrate. We have good food and good wine. Come inside and let good company chase away the darkness for a little while.”

“What are we celebrating?” Jason asked.

Pythagoras smiled as his apparently genuine confusion.

“The day is over and we have all survived it. I think that is more than enough reason to celebrate don’t you?” he said. “And more than that Minos was right. Atlantis will never have to send seven citizens as tribute to the Minotaur again thanks to you. That particular horror has been banished forever and it is all your doing. If that does not deserve a small celebration I do not know what does.” He looked impishly at Jason. “Besides, Hercules has been using his new found fame to obtain wine and pies from the merchants at the agora. We should go in before he decides to finish them all on his own. I fear that that much wine would not be good for his health.”

“Agora?” Jason asked.

“It is the marketplace,” Pythagoras said. “It would appear that the citizens of Atlantis are most grateful to be rid of the Minotaur and wished to offer their thanks in the form of food and wine. Hercules is ecstatic.”

“They didn’t need to do that,” Jason muttered.

“No they did not,” Pythagoras answered with a smile, “but they wanted to. I am sure it will not last but it would seem a shame not to take advantage or to allow the food to go to waste.”

He moved around until he was alongside his companion and slung a friendly arm around Jason’s neck.

“Come on,” he said. “Let us go inside while there is still some food left. We will drink a toast to our own good fortune and survival.”

Jason half smiled and nodded.

“Alright,” he agreed.

As they left the balcony and re-entered the house, Jason gave one last glance over his shoulder towards the darkened street. This might be reality as Pythagoras had said or it might still turn out to be a dream. But if it was a dream then at least it was not an unpleasant one. For the first time since returning from killing the Minotaur, Jason allowed himself to relax. He was warm and safe, there was food and wine waiting for him and Pythagoras was offering friendship. For now, that was more than good enough.


	2. Anger

 

The walk back from the Temple had done little to improve Jason’s mood. By the time he reached his own doors he was furious. Damn the woman! Did she have to be so bloody obtuse all the time? This whole destiny thing and her pronouncements of “all will become clear in time” had grown very old very quickly. She had practically told him that she was lying straight to his face but still plainly expected him to trust her implicitly; to follow every word she said.

At the door to the house Jason paused. It wasn’t fully the Oracle’s fault, he admitted to himself with a sigh. She hadn’t brought him here (at least he didn’t think so) and was clearly delighted that he _was_ here – although that in itself raised questions. Jason was honest enough with himself to admit that her attention and pronouncements of how special he was, were more than a little flattering. After all, in his former life he had barely registered on most people’s radar; had been a bit of a loner; an outcast in his way; and certainly never more than average by anyone’s standards. So to be told that he was so special – to be greeted with such obvious delight by a woman who was apparently widely revered in the city – was pretty remarkable; pretty amazing.

It also heaped pressure on him though. To be told that he alone was responsible for the fate of Atlantis and for saving the city and its people was more than a little daunting. How the hell was he supposed to go about saving the city? This was Atlantis for God’s sake! The city that was destined to sink beneath the ocean – and he was supposed to stop that? The Oracle, Jason was very quickly learning, was good with the “to do” lists but less than helpful with the “ _how_ to do” lists.

It probably didn’t help that he felt so damned lost too. He knew nothing of this world and its society and now he was dumped in the middle of it and told to get on with saving it? Jason bit his lip. He hadn’t even been able to find a permanent job let alone anything else. How was he supposed to be this big hero that the Oracle kept announcing him to be when he couldn’t even help his friends put bread on the table? The last couple of weeks had been a rollercoaster. Jason had always believed himself to be pretty adaptable to most situations but this… this whole place – the whole situation he found himself in – seemed to morph from wondrous dream to hideous nightmare and back again. He was lost; directionless; rudderless. If it hadn’t been for Pythagoras, he wasn’t sure what he would have done.

Pythagoras had been pretty amazing to be honest; had taken all of (to his eyes) Jason’s weirdness in his stride; had accepted without murmur the (fairly obvious) fact that his friend knew next to nothing about their society and little of their Gods but also did not want to talk about his own past or place of origin. Jason knew (with a guilty twinge) that his mood had been gradually getting worse over the few short weeks he had been in Atlantis. The lack of immediate purpose was getting to him and he found himself growing inexplicably angry at the slightest provocation. Pythagoras had dealt with his moodiness with unruffled calm, lending a sympathetic ear or giving a calming word when it seemed necessary, or slipping a thin arm around his friend’s shoulders when he thought it might be needed (and accepted), or using light and sarcastic banter (mainly at Hercules’ expense) to lift Jason’s mood on a fairly regular basis. It was almost disturbing just how quickly Pythagoras had come to be able to read him, Jason mused, and how deftly the young mathematician could divert him whenever his mind seemed to be wandering down a darker path.

It was odd but in spite of feeling like he was lost at sea a lot of the time, some aspects of Jason’s life actually seemed to be going better than they ever had before. Pythagoras was proving to be probably the best friend he had ever had (and if that made him pathetic then he really didn’t care right now) and even Hercules seemed to be warming up to him. Certainly the big man had made no further suggestions that Jason should leave; had seemed to accept that he was now a permanent member of the household – although quite how that had happened Jason wasn’t quite sure. He wasn’t going to argue though. After all he had no other friends in this strange city and nowhere else to go if the truth be told. Okay so a bed of his own would be nice rather than having to sleep rolled up in blankets on the bare floor, but it was still infinitely better than being tossed out into the gutter.

Yes, Hercules was definitely warming up. He’d even called Jason “my friend” a couple of times (mainly when he was drunk it had to be said but surely that was beside the point). It was probably the encounter with the Minotaur that had done it. Jason had been told that life or death experiences tended to bond men closer together and that certainly seemed to hold true where Hercules was concerned. Thinking of Hercules made Jason’s face darken again though; his temper flaring once more. When Hercules had come home this morning and told them he had arranged a job for them Jason had actually been pleased. He hadn’t minded the idea of helping the burly wrestler one little bit. It had been a distinctly nice thought that he might actually be able to contribute to the household for once.

The truth was that Jason had realised fairly quickly (certainly within the first couple of days here) that there was not a great deal to spare in the small household he had found himself joining. Neither Pythagoras nor Hercules seemed to have a steady or regular job and money was quite clearly scarce (although that didn’t seem to stop Hercules from going out drinking and gambling almost every night). The addition of an extra mouth to feed had stretched their limited resources even further and, although neither of them said anything, Jason was only too aware that his presence was an added complication that they could probably have done without (and damn if that didn’t make him feel extra guilty too).

What he had not been expecting when Hercules had told him about the job, however, was that the big man would turn up very late for his shift on watch; leaving Jason sitting alone in the dark with nothing but his own brooding thoughts for company long past the point where he should have been relieved, growing steadily angrier with every minute that Hercules was overdue. Then when the big man had turned up he had clearly been drinking; was most definitely on the wrong side of drunk. Jason felt his anger surge once more as he stomped into the house, letting the front door bang behind him (although not _too_ noisily in case Pythagoras was already asleep – it was very late after all) and making his moody way out onto the balcony.

Once there, Jason slid to the floor, back against a pillar, head resting back against the wall and hands clenched into loose fists at his side, as his frustration at Hercules, the Oracle and the whole damned world bubbled up through him.

“How did it go?” Pythagoras’ soft voice was startling in the stillness, his tone innocuous.

Jason snorted derisively.

Pythagoras sighed.

“It went _that_ well then,” he murmured, taking in his friend’s tense posture. “You might want this then,” he added, sitting down beside Jason and pouring some wine into one of the cups he had brought with him onto the balcony and pushing it towards his friend.

Jason stared at the cup for a few long moments before grabbing it and taking a large gulp.

“Thanks,” he muttered as he set the cup down again.

Pythagoras picked up his own cup and sipped at it slowly, wriggling himself into a more comfortable position.

“What happened?” he asked. “You are much later than I was expecting.”

“Hercules,” Jason answered shortly.

“Ah,” Pythagoras murmured. “I have been friends with Hercules for many years now but even I would admit that he can be somewhat trying at times. What did he do this time?”

“He was late,” Jason growled. “He left me sitting there for hours… and when he did finally turn up he’d been drinking. His breath stank of wine.”

“Ah,” Pythagoras murmured again. “I should have warned you of that,” he added apologetically.

Jason frowned.

“Warned me about what?” he asked testily.

“Warned you that Hercules will always begin the evening in the tavern if he is undertaking a guard job,” Pythagoras answered. “He is always late and regularly drunk. I have become so used to it that I simply did not think to warn you.” He hesitated. “I must admit to you now that I have been more than a little selfish,” he said.

Jason snorted again.

“You’re the most unselfish person I’ve ever met,” he protested sharply.

Pythagoras smiled.

“It is kind of you to think that,” he replied. “However, in this case I fear that I have been less than altruistic. The truth is that in the past Hercules would call on me to assist him with any of the jobs he arranged no matter how inconvenient it might be or that I might have alternative plans. When he suggested that you might help him this evening and you agreed to it, I was somewhat grateful. My own studies are, I believe, approaching a potentially crucial stage and I was glad to not be called upon to set them aside; to have an evening to myself for once.” Pythagoras hesitated again, flushing as he mentally reviewed what he had just said. “Not that I would not have been glad to spend the evening in your company,” he added hurriedly, apparently worrying that Jason might infer that he did not want him there and take offence. “I did not mean…”

Jason waved away the attempted apology with one curt hand gesture. He drew his knees up and looked away moodily, reaching for his half drained cup of wine and taking another large gulp, draining it and putting the cup back down sharply.

Pythagoras looked at him shrewdly.

“I do not think you would be this upset simply from Hercules’ actions and selfishness,” he observed. “What else has happened this evening?”

Jason glowered darkly but did not answer.

“Jason… please?” Pythagoras said cajolingly. “I merely wish to help.”

“I don’t think you can,” Jason answered shortly, trying hard not to take his temper out on his innocent friend.

“Not if you will not allow me to,” Pythagoras responded reasonably.

He poured Jason another cup of wine.

“Try not to drink this one as quickly,” he admonished with a light smile to show that he was joking. “Otherwise I might begin to mistake you for Hercules.” He nudged Jason with his shoulder.

Jason grunted moodily in response.

The smile slid from Pythagoras’ face.

“What is wrong my friend?” he asked softly, laying a warm hand gently on Jason’s arm.

Jason looked down at Pythagoras’ hand. He sighed.

“After I left Hercules I went to see the Oracle,” he admitted.

Pythagoras smiled encouragingly.

“And did she have answers for you?” he asked.

“Does she ever?” Jason replied bitterly. “She’s so damned cryptic all the time, how is anyone ever meant to know whether she’s actually answered them or not?”

Pythagoras looked at him askance.

“Jason!” he protested. “The Oracle is Poseidon’s representative… His mouthpiece on earth. It is not the place of mortal men to criticise her.”

Jason sighed. In spite of Pythagoras’ rational and logical nature, it was clear that he was a man of his time and that his faith in the Gods and their representatives was unwavering.

“I’m not trying to criticise the Oracle,” Jason tried to assure his friend. “I’m just a bit frustrated with her that’s all. I mean she practically told me to my face that there are things she’s keeping from me… that she’s not telling me the whole truth.”

“I am sure she must have her reasons,” Pythagoras responded carefully.

“She says it’s to protect me.”

Pythagoras frowned.

“Protect you from what?” he asked.

“She won’t tell me,” Jason spat back. Then he sighed. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t snap at you. You’ve been nothing but kind and I don’t mean to be ungrateful.”

“And you are not,” Pythagoras interjected.

“I’ve tried to explain how I feel to her… that I need answers,” Jason murmured, half to himself. “But it’s like talking to a wall. The Oracle told me that my father is dead but she refuses to tell me how or when. She won’t even tell me where he’s buried.”

“I am sorry,” Pythagoras responded comfortingly. “I know how hard that must be for you.”

“All I ever get from her is platitudes about how everything will become clear in time.” The anger and bitterness was clear in Jason’s quiet voice. “She said something about only finding our way when we accept that we’re lost… It was something like that anyway. She tells me that she wishes she could make it easier for me but then acknowledges that she’s not telling me the whole truth. I don’t see how I’m supposed to trust her.”

“Jason,” Pythagoras began.

“And what the hell am I supposed to do until ‘everything becomes clear’?” Jason demanded. “I don’t know my place in this world. She tells me that I was born here; that I was taken from here when I was a baby and that I belong here – but I’ve never felt so lost. She tells me that I’m in Atlantis for a reason but can’t tell me what that reason is.” He closed his eyes. “I don’t feel like I belong here at all,” he admitted quietly.

Pythagoras sighed. He was quiet for a long moment.

“Jason I am going to tell you something and I want you to listen without interrupting,” he said. Once he was sure he had his friend’s full attention he went on. “I told you that I was sixteen when I first came to Atlantis,” he said, “but I did not tell you that I never intended to stay here. I was born on Samos and grew up there. It is not a large settlement and the people there tend to be a little more conservative than they are in the city. I was not proficient at sports and did not enjoy hunting. My love of learning was not something that was considered to be normal or to be supported. If I had been a nobleman’s son my pursuit of education would have been encouraged – although physical prowess is still prized among that class also. As it was my neighbours were hardly accepting of my nature. I was an outcast; always treated with disdain. My mother, fortunately, understood me better than my peers and encouraged me to broaden my horizons by leaving the small town of my birth. Atlantis was simply the first stop along the way in what was supposed to be a long journey. I had intended to travel to Athens where the opportunities for learning are greater and a man is judged on his mental acuity and not simply his physical ability. I had been in Atlantis for just two days when I was robbed of all my belongings. Without money I had no way of continuing my journey and here I have remained ever since.” Pythagoras paused, his eyes lost in memory. “I was angry,” he admitted. “Very angry. I felt as though my dreams had been stolen from me. What could Atlantis have to offer me? I felt as though I did not – could not – belong here. As though I was lost in the dark. Yet I had no option but to stay.”

“So what happened?” Jason asked.

“I found Hercules… and he found me,” Pythagoras answered with a smile. “This is not the future that I once intended for myself; not the path I believed my life would take. But I am happy enough now.”

“If you were offered the chance though… if someone came along tomorrow and gave you the chance to go to Athens and do all the things you’d dreamed of… would you take it?”

“I do not know,” Pythagoras admitted candidly. “Athens still holds its enticements for me… of course it does. The chance to study in such a revered seat of learning; to converse with learned men… it is any scholar’s dream. Yet it would mean that I would have to leave everything I have come to love… my home; my friends,” he flashed a quick look at Jason. “If I truly wanted to go to Athens so badly I would have found a way long ago,” he said softly. “The point I was trying to make though, was that I once felt like an outsider in Atlantis; like I did not belong here. Yet now I would not choose to be anywhere else.” He grasped Jason’s arm and turned to face his friend fully, his blue eyes earnest. “Tell me,” he asked gently. “If you truly believe that you do not belong here why have you made no attempts to find a way to return to your former home? The fact that you arrived here in the first place – and that you were taken from here as a baby – proves that such a journey must be possible. So why have you not sought to make it?”

Jason blinked.

“I don’t know,” he said slowly.

Pythagoras smiled.

“I believe that the Oracle may be right,” he said. “I know that you feel lost right now but I believe that deep down you have already accepted that this is where you belong; this is where you need to be. Whatever road you are destined to travel… wherever your journey through life will take you… you have friends who are willing to travel it with you.”

“I’m not sure it’s as simple as that,” Jason murmured.

“No,” Pythagoras agreed. “Perhaps not… but take it from one who has been where you are now, it will grow easier. Our situations may not have been identical but I believe that they are close enough for a comparison to be made.” He hesitated for a moment before ploughing on. “I have to say that for purely selfish reasons I hope you find your place here,” he added.

Jason frowned.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“I mean that I do not wish you to leave,” Pythagoras answered. “It is selfish of me I know but in the past few weeks I have come to enjoy your company. It is nice to have someone of my own age to talk to and nice to have a companion on those evenings that Hercules chooses to spend in the tavern. It can be lonely here on my own when Hercules is out drinking. Besides,” he added with his eyes twinkling mischievously, “there is much fun to be had at Hercules’ expense when there is someone to share it with.”

Jason huffed a soft laugh and let his head rest back against the wall, feeling the last of his anger draining away. He toyed with the cup of wine that was still in his hands as he watched Pythagoras go to pour his own second cup. The flagon was empty and the mathematician frowned as he held it upside down, watching the last drops falling from the rim into his cup.

“Wait there,” he said to Jason. “If we are to talk into the night I believe we will need more wine.”

Jason watched him leave with languid eyes, too comfortable to want to move. Idly he wondered what he’d done to deserve a friend like Pythagoras. Suddenly life didn’t seem so bad at all.


	3. Bargaining

 

“What’s it like? The place where you come from?”

Jason tensed at Pythagoras’ softly spoken words. He’d got away with it for too long he supposed. Sooner or later one of his friends was bound to start asking questions and he would have put money on it being Pythagoras. His younger friend was inquisitive by nature and the mystery of Jason’s origins was almost bound to set his curiosity alight.

“I am not trying to pry,” Pythagoras murmured. “If your past is something that you truly do not wish to talk about then I will not speak of it again. It is just that sometimes you say such strange things and I wondered if they were words that had meaning in your past that perhaps do not mean so much here.”

He came and stood next to Jason, leaning against the edge of the balcony (the unbroken portion of it at least) and looking out over the street.

Jason knew what he was trying to do and part of him appreciated it. He’d been angry as he’d walked home; angry at the Oracle; at the Gods; at himself. He had known what would happen and should have been able to prevent it. From the first moment he had met her he had known what Medusa’s fate would be and it was one that she had done nothing to deserve. She was innocent and he had failed her.

Kampê had even warned them about the box and he had seen for himself the way that both Pythagoras and Hercules seemed to be drawn to it; wanting to open it no matter what they had been told. Jason supposed he should wonder why he had never felt to urge to open it himself. In fact the box had made him feel cold every time he had looked at it, a deep unease that had only abated when he had put distance between himself and the accursed thing, and so he had retreated to the far side of the room – to the window where he could feel the warmth of the sun and yet still make sure than neither one of his friends ignored Kampê’s warning.

Having a copy of the box made to fool Kyros had seemed a good precaution to take. As had hiding the original in the space beneath the floor. Jason hadn’t counted on Medusa, hearing the siren song of Pandora’s Box calling to her, dragging the table aside, retrieving the box and then opening it, thus activating the curse that now afflicted her.

By the time Jason had reached the front door anger had given way to despair. What good did cursing the Gods do really? This was his fault. The knowledge that he had from his childhood – the legends of Ancient Greece that he had learned over the years – should have helped him. He should have been able to stop this; he should have been able to save Medusa from her fate.

Entering the house as quietly as he could he had made his way over to the balcony almost immediately. The fire that had happened while he and Hercules were in Hades (and Pythagoras still hadn’t said how it had happened) hadn’t been too bad in the end. Only one small section of the house had actually been damaged and Jason supposed he should be grateful that neither the bedrooms nor his own corner alcove had been touched. Still, everything stank of smoke and the charred walls and burnt furniture in that part of the room only served to remind him of their failure to save Medusa whenever he looked at it. The balcony and the fresh air it offered had seemed like a much better option.

Hercules had retreated to his room before Jason had even left the house to visit the Oracle and give her the box for safe-keeping. In his despair he had flung the accursed thing across the room and flung himself into his bedroom, barricading the door behind him. Pythagoras had, of course, immediately followed him (although what he could actually do Jason wasn’t quite sure), throwing the instruction over his shoulder to Jason to make sure Pandora’s Box was gone by the time Hercules came out again.

Jason hadn’t actually seen either one of his friends since his return from the Oracle until now and had assumed that Pythagoras would still be trying to comfort Hercules – which was as it should be. He had hoped to avoid the mathematician until he was in a bit better mood to be honest. Pythagoras had enough to deal with, handling the distraught Hercules without feeling that he needed to look after Jason too. It seemed Pythagoras had other ideas, however, and Jason would put money on the fact that his apparently random question and choice of topic of conversation was more an attempt to distract his dark haired friend from brooding than because he was genuinely interested in the answer (although undoubtedly Pythagoras _was_ curious about Jason’s origins – he was just too polite to be truly nosy).

The clouds still rolled overhead; lightning splitting the night sky. It suited Jason’s mood perfectly.

“How’s Hercules?” he asked, ignoring Pythagoras’ question.

Pythagoras sighed. He turned his back to the street and looked back into the house, his back resting against the edge of the balcony.

“Sleeping,” he answered softly. “I made sure of it.”

“How?”

Pythagoras sighed again.

“He was distraught,” he admitted. “I have never seen him so… I cannot even think of the word to describe his state of mind. He blames himself for everything. I was afraid of what he might do in this state… so I gave him some wine that I had first drugged. I know that sleep will not truly mend anything but I suppose I hoped that it might help him to gain a little perspective – however futile my hope might be – and that by morning we might have come up with a way to give him a little hope.” He looked at Jason, his own despair at the situation they found themselves in written in his eyes. “You have found a safe place for the box?” he asked. “I do not want Hercules to see the damned thing when he awakes.”

Jason blinked in surprise. It was the closest he had ever come to hearing Pythagoras swear.

“Yeah,” he muttered. “I took it to the Oracle. She will make sure that no-one can get close enough to open it again.”

“That is good,” Pythagoras said. He hesitated for a moment. “Did she have any answers to offer… any advice on what we should do next?”

Jason snorted.

“No,” he answered shortly. “She told me that I can’t undo what’s been done and that I was warned about the dangers that the box posed.”

Pythagoras drew in a sharp breath.

“I am sure that she did not intend it in the way you have taken it,” he said, although his voice lacked conviction.

“I don’t think so,” Jason retorted. “She told me that the day will come when I will have to kill Medusa.”

He broke off and looked out across the still street, studiously ignoring the newly created statues that had so recently been living and breathing people.

Pythagoras was unable to restrain his horrified gasp as he turned towards his friend, his blue eyes aghast.

“I won’t do it,” Jason went on. “I can’t. I told her so too.”

“Perhaps it would be for the best if we do not inform Hercules of this,” Pythagoras murmured. He looked sharply at Jason. “What did the Oracle say when you told her that?” he enquired.

“We didn’t exactly part on good terms,” Jason answered. “I was angry at what she was suggesting.”

“Jason what did you do?” Pythagoras asked with a certain amount of resignation.

Jason looked down at the street again.

“I cursed her,” he admitted quietly, “and I cursed her Gods.”

“Jason!” Pythagoras had never sounded more shocked.

Jason swallowed hard and turned to face his friend.

Pythagoras was staring at him in horror.

“You cannot challenge the Gods,” he said. “Even you cannot escape their will and their wrath.”

“I cannot submit to this… _fate_ that the Oracle claims has been decided for me,” Jason answered. “This… destiny that I don’t want… and I cannot accept that it is Medusa’s fate to live as a monster… as a gorgon.” He swallowed hard again against the hard lump that seemed to have risen from his chest into his throat. “I can’t follow this path,” he almost whispered. “I can’t kill Medusa.”

“I did not imagine for a moment that you could,” Pythagoras replied comfortingly. “We will find a way around this. We will find a way to save Medusa. I have promised Hercules that I will seek a cure.”

“This is all my fault,” Jason murmured so softly that Pythagoras almost had to strain to hear him. “I should never have come here.”

He dropped his head and looked away.

Pythagoras’ eyes hardened.

“If you had never come here,” he pointed out abruptly, “I would have been dead and in the belly of the Minotaur months ago and Medusa would have become a Maenad. Is that what you would have wanted?”

“You don’t know that you would have drawn the black stone if I hadn’t been there,” Jason answered. “I went before you in the draw. You might have drawn the white one that I took.”

“And you do not know that I would not still have drawn the black stone,” Pythagoras argued. “And even if I had drawn a white one, seven unfortunates would still have been condemned to the labyrinth… and the whole thing would have been repeated the next year and the year after that and so on. Can you guarantee that I would never have drawn a black stone? Or that Hercules would not have drawn one in the future?”

“No,” Jason admitted.

“And what of Medusa?” Pythagoras went on, his voice rising sharply. “Would you have seen her become a Maenad or condemned to be killed by the satyrs?”

“Maybe it would have been better if she had become a Maenad,” Jason answered. “At least she would be happy… and she would never have been cursed.”

“You cannot see all the paths that the Fates lay out,” Pythagoras replied, his voice becoming gentle once more. “Perhaps she would still have been cursed but at a different time and in a different way. At least now she has friends who will do anything to seek a cure for her.”

“Maybe,” Jason said softly, still not looking at Pythagoras.

“Jason this is not your fault... no more than it is mine, or Medusa’s, or Hercules’ or anyone’s. You could not have foreseen Medusa finding Pandora’s Box and opening it… or the terrible curse that it would unleash.”

“I should have foreseen it though.”

“Now you are truly being ridiculous,” Pythagoras said sharply.

“The Oracle was right,” Jason responded distantly. “We were warned what the box could do… Kampê warned us before we escaped from her lair… There’s more too…”

“What?” Pythagoras asked with a troubled frown.

“When we first met Medusa…” Jason faltered for a moment before plunging on. “The Oracle warned me what her fate would be… she said that she would not be able to escape her destiny any more than I can escape mine… I knew what would become of her Pythagoras. I should have been able to stop it. I’ve failed her.”

Pythagoras sucked in a sharp breath.

“So that is how you knew not to look at her,” he murmured. He looked sharply at Jason. “I think perhaps it would be for the best if we do not tell _this_ to Hercules either,” he added.

“Now do you see why this is all my fault?” Jason asked.

Pythagoras was silent for a long moment, trying to come up with the right words to say what he meant. He reached out and grasped Jason’s arm firmly, tugging sharply and forcing his friend to turn to face him.

“If this truly was Medusa’s fate then there was nothing you could have done to prevent it,” he said firmly. “The Fates spin a man’s moira not you or I, and even the Gods submit to them. They spin the thread of life, measure its span and cut it when it comes to an end. The Gods may alter a man’s destiny… may set him on the path of their choosing… but it is a matter for the Fates to decide where that destiny may ultimately lead and when any life must finally end. We must submit to their will and to the will of the Gods.”

“So we should just accept what’s happened to Medusa?”

“I did not say that,” Pythagoras answered primly. “If it was Medusa’s fate to be cursed then it was always going to happen. That does not mean, however, that we should not seek to undo the curse. The Oracle has seen a vision of one possible future… one in which you are forced to do the unthinkable and kill Medusa… but our choices and the choices of those around us affect the future. It is inevitable. The future is not set in stone… even if our fates are. It seems that it was Medusa’s fate to be cursed but perhaps it is ours to undo that curse and restore her.”

Jason didn’t answer. Wearily he turned away from the street and dragged the strap holding his sword in place over his head, allowing it to fall with a clatter to the floor. His breastplate followed the sword to the floor a few short moments later before he slid down to sit with his back against the wall of the window recess, as he had done on so many evenings over the past few months that he and Pythagoras had spent chatting about whatever subject took their fancy or exchanging confidences over a cup of wine.

Pythagoras tutted briefly over his friend’s untidiness before he gathered up the fallen sword and breastplate and moved them to the table that stood on their covered balcony. Turning back, he sat down opposite Jason with his back against a wooden pillar, unconsciously mimicking his friend’s posture, their feet almost touching.

Without saying anything, Jason began to untie his wrist braces, using his teeth on the recalcitrant knot on the right one before turning his attention to the left. As it came loose and dropped away, so too did the soft pad of cloth Pythagoras had given him to cover Circe’s brand (still unhealed in spite of the mathematician’s ministrations) to stop the leather of the brace from rubbing against the damaged skin and injuring it further. Pythagoras sighed and leant forwards, grasping Jason’s left arm with both his own and turning it towards the light.

“If you want evidence for how far you would have gone to save Medusa I think you need look no further than this,” he remarked softly. “The deal you made with Circe was done purely for your friends’ benefit. I am only sorry that I can do nothing to heal this wound.”

Jason swallowed hard.

“It’s alright,” he answered. “I don’t even know it’s there most of the time.”

Pythagoras snorted, clearly not believing him.

Jason looked away.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “You shouldn’t be having to sit here with me. You’ve got enough to deal with.”

“What exactly do you think I have to deal with right now?” Pythagoras asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Well… Hercules…”

“Is sleeping,” Pythagoras answered. He sighed. “What happened this evening… I would to Gods that it had never happened and I cannot get either the sight of those poor people turned to stone or Hercules’ expression when he realised what had happened out of my head. Believe me when I say that I need the comfort of your company every bit as much as you need mine.” He raised his eyebrows again. “And before you think it, that is _not_ another thing for you to feel guilty about that is _not your fault_.”

Jason snorted and rested his head back against the wall.

“It just keeps going round in circles in my head,” he said softly. “That maybe if I’d done something differently we wouldn’t be in this position now.” He glanced at Pythagoras and then looked away again. “I think I’d just about make a deal with Hades himself if it meant that things could be different… better. When I was walking back here from the Temple I started praying to your Gods… begging them.”

“What were you asking them?” Pythagoras asked, his eyes intent.

“To make it not real,” Jason answered softly. “To turn back the clock to before all this started so that everyone I care about would be safe. To take me back to where I came from so that none of you could be caught up in my mess.”

“Is that what you really want?” Pythagoras asked, his voice hoarse as though he were trying to reign in his emotions. “To go back to where you came from?”

“Yes,” Jason replied. “No. I don’t know what I want anymore. I don’t want to leave you guys. I love Atlantis. I love my life here. I’ve never felt that I belonged anywhere as much as I do here… but life was so much simpler before I came here. Disaster didn’t seem to follow me around. I was ordinary.”

“I cannot imagine you ever being ordinary,” Pythagoras said, quirking his eyebrow. “You are different… special.”

“Not where I came from,” Jason answered. “Here it feels like we lurch from one disaster to another… and it’s my fault. I just want things to be simple again.”

Pythagoras scrambled across the floor without rising until they were sitting alongside one another. He wrapped his long arms around his knees and regarded his friend pensively.

“I understand your desire to go back in time,” he said softly. “For Medusa to be made whole and Hercules happy. If it were possible, I would make my own bargain with the Gods… but I do not think that it is a bargain that they will be willing to make.” He sighed. “If you wish to leave I will not stand in your way… although I will be sad to see you go.”

“I don’t want to leave as such,” Jason denied. “It’s just that there are times when I miss my old life… when I miss getting up in the morning and just going to work and not having to worry about someone I care for being cursed or threatened or forced into a situation they don’t want to be in… when I miss the days when I didn’t have this destiny that the Oracle keeps harping on about hanging over my head… and I really wish she’d just tell me what I’m supposed to do. All she ever says is that one day I’ll understand… that time will make it all clear. There are times when I want to throttle her when she says that.”

“Jason!” Pythagoras admonished.

Jason huffed a sound that was half laugh and half sob.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “I don’t really mean it. I wouldn’t really hurt her for the world. I just don’t want to see her again. What she said… I can’t forgive her… but I still wouldn’t see her harmed. From the first moment I arrived in Atlantis she’s been there for me… like you.” He looked at Pythagoras with a half-smile, wrapping an arm around the mathematician’s thin shoulders. “No matter what messes I’ve got us into, you’ve always been there at my side. I don’t think I’d even have made it through the first week without you.”

Pythagoras blushed slightly.

“I have done nothing special,” he murmured.

“Yes you have,” Jason answered. “You took a stranger… a fugitive… into your home and made him welcome. You listen to me without judging whenever I’m complaining and try to cheer me up if I’m sad. You have shared what you have with me and never really complained no matter what I’ve done. You’re the best friend I could have… the best friend I’ve _ever_ had. It’s like I told your brother, you’re the kindest man I’ve ever known. I don’t want to leave. I just wish things had turned out differently.”

“As do I,” Pythagoras replied leaning into Jason’s one-armed hug for a moment. Then he shook himself, seeming to draw strength from the embrace. “We _will_ find a cure though. I have to believe that for Hercules’ sake. He will need us both to be strong now.”

Jason attempted a reassuring smile. Pythagoras was right, he decided. It would do no good to fall apart now.

“What do you need me to do?” he asked.

“What you always do,” Pythagoras answered. “Your best.” He sighed and looked towards the main body of the house. “Hercules will need us to give him hope. Tomorrow I will go to the library and begin to research the means by which Medusa might be cured. We will both need to keep a positive outlook for Hercules’ sake.”

“A positive outlook,” Jason said. “I can do that. Anything else?”

Pythagoras considered it thoughtfully.

“Well,” he said hesitantly. “I have one or two texts on medicine here that might contain some useful pointers… and I believe I have a treatise on the nature and classification of monsters… not that Medusa is a monster of course… that is… I think you know what I mean,” he finished lamely.

“Yeah,” Jason replied. “I know what you mean… probably best not to let Hercules hear you use the words ‘Medusa’ and ‘monster’ in the same sentence though.”

“Yes,” Pythagoras agreed. “If you could help me look over the texts that I already have tonight then I might have a clearer idea of the direction of my studies at the library tomorrow.”

In spite of the horror of the situation, Jason couldn’t help noticing that Pythagoras’ eyes lit up a little at the idea of research. He chuckled softly to himself and pushed himself to his feet, reaching down with one hand to help Pythagoras up.

“Come on then,” he said. “The sooner we get started the sooner you can start looking for this cure.”

 


	4. Depression

 

The house was in darkness when Pythagoras returned from visiting Daedalus. It was a surprise to the young genius and he paused in the doorway for a minute or two, frowning. He had expected Hercules to be out. The older man had muttered something this morning about a beetle race at the tavern this evening but as far as Pythagoras knew Jason should still be home. Perhaps his younger friend had decided to join Hercules at the tavern? Or gone to visit the Oracle? Pythagoras discounted both possibilities fairly quickly. Jason hadn’t mentioned anything about going out this evening before Pythagoras had gone out. Actually he hadn’t said much of anything to be honest. Not that that was particularly unusual these days. He had rarely left the house since the rabid dog incident – only really going out when one of his friends persuaded him to accompany them to the market or somewhere specific – and didn’t engage in conversation in the way he used to. Pythagoras was increasingly worried.

 _He is unhappy_ , a little voice at the back of the mathematician’s head kept saying. Pythagoras sighed. That much at least was obvious, but until Jason chose to divulge what exactly was bothering him Pythagoras was left floundering for a solution to a problem that he did not yet fully understand. There were times when he caught Jason staring out into the street with sad eyes, his expression so wistful and longing that Pythagoras would have done almost anything to take it away. As soon as he realised he was not alone, however, Jason’s entire demeanour would change, his face morphing back into the easy-going smile that he wore so often. His smiles had been coming less and less lately though, Pythagoras thought with another sigh.

Over the last few weeks, as Jason had grown quieter and quieter and more and more distant (always polite but definitely more distant than normal), Pythagoras had caught him looking at Circe’s brand on several occasions. It galled the mathematician that he had been able to do nothing to help heal the burn, the edges looking as angry, red and painful as the first day the witch had inflicted it upon his friend. The injury simply refused to heal (which, on reflection, probably had something to do with the magical manner in which it had been given) and Pythagoras knew that it still pained Jason, although his dark haired friend refused to say anything; refused to complain. He suspected that Jason’s silence with regards to the brand was down to the fact that he did not wish to make Hercules feel guilty given that it was a physical symbol of the agreement Jason had been forced to make with the witch to save both the burly wrestler’s and Medusa’s lives.

Pythagoras stood still in the darkness near the table in the kitchen area, hearing only his own breathing. The silence in the house was a little unnerving and he hurried to light a lamp even as he berated himself for his own nervousness. A soft sound from the balcony made him jump and spin around anxiously, although an embarrassed flush spread up his cheeks. He had, after all, been in the house on his own at night on many occasions in the past without jumping at shadows.

“Hello?” he called, cursing himself silently for the tremulous note that crept into his voice unbidden.

“I’m out here,” Jason’s voice drifted back from the balcony.

Pythagoras frowned. Jason sounded muffled somehow, his voice rougher than usual. He slipped his satchel off over his head and placed it down on the kitchen table before quietly padding his way over to the balcony. He paused in the doorway, frowning as he took in the sight before him. Jason was sitting on the floor in his usual spot. What worried Pythagoras though was the two wine flagons on the floor next to him. After all, everyone knew that Hercules was the heavy drinker of their household. Like Pythagoras himself, Jason usually drank fairly little and his two friends had never seen him truly drunk – a little tipsy on a couple of occasions when they had been celebrating but never actually full on drunk. As Pythagoras entered the balcony, he scrubbed his hands across his face, rubbing his eyes with his fingers and dragging them down his cheeks. Even in the darkness Pythagoras could see how suspiciously bright his friend’s eyes were.

“Jason have you been crying?” he asked gently.

“No. Of course not,” Jason answered, although Pythagoras couldn’t help noticing the hitch in his voice that told a different story to his words.

The young genius sighed and moved to sit next to his friend. Jason leant away slightly and looked anywhere but at Pythagoras. Pythagoras tried to supress the little irrational surge of hurt he felt at his friend’s rejection of the comfort he wanted to offer.

“What is wrong my friend?” he asked softly. “You are clearly not happy and I wish you would tell me what I can do to make things better.”

“I’m fine.”

“No you are not,” Pythagoras retorted. “You have not been yourself for some weeks now. What troubles you?”

“I…,” Jason began, his breath hitching.

For a moment Pythagoras thought he might actually open up before his hope was dashed.

“I’m fine,” Jason finished, looking down at the ground.

Pythagoras favoured him with a disbelieving look and sighed.

“I cannot begin to help if you will not let me,” he murmured. “Although whatever is troubling you I doubt you will find the answer at the bottom of a flagon of wine,” he added primly.

Jason snorted.

“I haven’t drunk all that much,” he protested.

Pythagoras raised one eyebrow and looked pointedly at the two flagons.

“One of those was nearly empty already,” Jason protested, following his gaze. “There was only about a quarter of a cup in it to start with.” He pulled his knees up and wrapped his arms around them. “Not that it would matter if I had got drunk,” he added in a barely audible mutter. “At least then I might be able to…” he let out a shaky breath but did not finish the sentence.

“It would matter if you were drinking because you are miserable,” Pythagoras said quietly. “In my experience if you drink wine when you are not happy, the drink will only make you more sad.”

He placed a warm hand firmly on Jason’s shoulder and felt his friend lean into it, even as he turned his face further away. It was a strange contradiction in body language but Pythagoras held on, knowing that Jason would surrender eventually; would give in to his need for the comfort of a friend even if he was trying to deny himself at the moment.

“What is wrong my friend?” the mathematician repeated gently.

Jason took a hitching breath that sounded almost like a sob.

“It’s stupid,” he muttered.

“It is not stupid if it is making you feel this way,” Pythagoras answered.

“I went to the market this afternoon,” Jason said obliquely.

Pythagoras blinked at the apparent non sequitur but wisely held his tongue, suspecting that Jason was about to tell him what was wrong even if it was via a circuitous route.

“We were out of bread again,” Jason continued. “How is it that we’re always out of bread?”

“We live with Hercules,” Pythagoras answered. “His appetite, at least, truly _is_ legendary.”

Jason grunted in response.

“Anyway I was in a different part of the market to normal,” he said. “I can’t really go to the baker we used to go to anymore so I went to the one on the other side of the market. It’s run by this blind man… although how he knows that people aren’t stealing from him I don’t know. I was on my way there this afternoon and there was this new stall – one I haven’t seen before. It was selling pottery. Not the normal stuff that’s in the agora but really fancy stuff… you know the black and red stuff?”

“Red figure pottery?” Pythagoras murmured. “It is among our finest and most highly prized art forms. There is a merchant from Athens who visits Atlantis at around this time every year selling it. It is beyond the price range of most of the citizens but I understand he sells a fair amount to the nobility.”

“It was pretty,” Jason admitted. “I only stopped to look for a minute. There were vases and amphorae. Lots of big, fancy stuff… you know? And then I saw this little bowl at the back of the stall… this tiny little bowl. Most people didn’t even look at it because it was so small. It had a picture of… well I _think_ it was Hermes on it… whoever it was had wings on his feet anyway.”

“Yes that would indeed be Hermes,” Pythagoras answered softly. He draped his arm carefully around his friend’s shoulders, feeling the tension and rigidity in them. Jason was clearly not yet ready to let go fully and allow himself to be consoled. “What was so important about that dish?” he asked. “Did something happen?”

Pythagoras knew better than anyone that, in spite of his natural grace and agility, Jason could be remarkably clumsy at times. It wouldn’t have surprised him to hear that his friend had managed to accidentally destroy the entire pottery stall – although how they would pay for it if he had, Pythagoras wasn’t quite sure.

“No. Nothing happened. I just stood there staring until the stall holder made me move on,” Jason said, his tone subdued.

“Then what was it about this particular dish that is affecting you so much?”

Jason swallowed hard and looked down.

“When I was little… when I was a child… my father had a dish that was just like it,” he answered quietly. “I mean it was identical. It could almost have been the same dish. It was the same size and shape and pattern. When he disappeared… over the years most of his things were lost… I suppose someone got rid of them… but that dish was always there. That and my necklace were the only two things I really had of him.” He raised his hand unconsciously and fingered the bulls horn necklace at his throat.

“I did not realise that your necklace had such significance,” Pythagoras murmured.

“It was the last thing he ever gave me,” Jason admitted. “It was just before he disappeared. I’ve kept it ever since… worn it whenever I could… stupid I suppose but it always felt like if I could hold onto the last of his things I could hold onto him a little bit.”

“It is not stupid to grieve for a person that you love… or to miss them,” Pythagoras said. “Forgive me… I do not wish to pry if it is something that you are uncomfortable talking about… but you have never mentioned your mother. On the rare occasions when you do speak of your past it is always your father that you speak of.”

“I don’t really talk about my mother because there isn’t that much to say about her,” Jason replied. “I was always told that she died not long after I was born. My father did not like to speak of her. I would ask but he would never tell me about her. I think the memories were too painful for him.”

“So that is what you meant,” Pythagoras murmured to himself. At Jason’s semi-quizzical look he went on. “Do you remember some months ago when we found the baby? When you and I were in the woods you murmured something about no child deserving to grow up not knowing their mother. I wondered why you would say such a thing at the time but I did not like to ask. Now I understand that you were talking as much about yourself as you were about the child.”

“Maybe,” Jason acknowledged. “I used to look at other children with their parents and wonder what it would feel like to have a mother. I mean I had my father… but then he was gone too. So I held onto the necklace and that stupid little dish. Wherever I lived… wherever I went it went with me. I used to keep coins in it. Seeing that bowl today… knowing that I don’t have it anymore… that I’ve lost it… it almost felt like I was losing him all over again.”

Pythagoras’ arm tightened automatically around his companion’s shoulders.

“It is understandable,” he murmured. “Especially since you were already feeling low.”

“Who said I was feeling low?” Jason protested, although his voice lacked any sort of conviction and he sniffled slightly. Pythagoras tightened his arm even more.

“You have been unhappy for weeks,” the mathematician responded. “You have barely left the house… barely spoken. I have known that something was wrong for some time but I did not know what to do to help.”

“I’m sorry,” Jason almost whispered. “You shouldn’t have to put up with me and my moods. I make enough trouble for you as it is.”

“You are my friend,” Pythagoras replied simply. “And I would think myself a poor friend indeed if I did not care for your wellbeing and wish to help you.” He looked at Jason and smiled reassuringly. “Please Jason, tell me what is wrong?”

“I don’t know really. It’s just… do you ever feel like you can’t do anything right? Like you’re making a mess of your whole life and dragging everyone you care about down with you?”

Pythagoras frowned.

“You are _not_ dragging anyone anywhere,” he said firmly. “And as for being unable to do anything right, you have saved mine and Hercules’ lives more times than I care to remember. Within two days of arriving in Atlantis your actions had saved Hercules from being a lion’s dinner and me from the clutches of the Minotaur.”

“Yeah but usually you’re only in danger in the first place because of me.”

“That is _not_ true,” Pythagoras asserted. “Not _all the time_. When the Furies attacked it was not your doing. Neither was it your fault when Hercules was turned into a pig… or when Medusa was kidnapped by Kyros… or for that matter when Hercules went searching for Medusa and fell afoul of the Scythians. In fact, I would say that at least half of our troubles can be ascribed to Hercules and not you.”

“Maybe,” Jason sighed. “But then I think of Korinna and Medusa. If I hadn’t entered the Pankration… if Ariadne had never met me… Korinna would still be alive… and Medusa wouldn’t be cursed if I’d just listened to Kampê’s warnings about Pandora’s Box… and then there’s Ariadne. What must she think of me? I’m the reason that her closest friend is dead.”

“I think Ariadne would put the blame for that firmly where it belongs,” Pythagoras said. “With Pasiphae. Ariadne cares deeply for you… she loves you. I believe that much was evident from the way in which she gathered the silver to help us rid you of that curse even though she did not know what we needed it for.”

“And how did I thank her? I practically slammed the door in her face, sniffed her and growled at her. What must she think of me now? She must think I’m some kind of freak.”

Pythagoras sighed.

“I believe that there is very little that you could do that Ariadne could not forgive,” he said softly. “You were cursed and did not fully have control over your own actions. Ariadne could see that you were not yourself… that something was wrong with you… and she was concerned. I do not believe that she will hold anything you did at the time against you.” He looked shrewdly at Jason. “That is not all that is wrong though is it?”

Jason bit his lip and looked away.

“I miss home,” he murmured plaintively. “I mean I miss where I come from. I know I can’t go back and I don’t really want to but…”

A faint smile touched Pythagoras’ lips.

“And was it so difficult to admit that you are homesick?” he asked gently.

“I shouldn’t be,” Jason answered. “You guys have done so much for me. I feel like I’m being ungrateful… and this place feels more like home than anywhere I’ve ever lived.”

“I would be more disturbed if you did not miss the home where you were raised now and then,” Pythagoras responded. “You should not be ashamed of missing your home. It does not make you ungrateful… it makes you human. I have made my home here in Atlantis, with Hercules and now with you. I would not wish to leave it or those I love for the world, and yet there are times when I still miss Samos even after all these years. I miss my mother’s smile… the smell of the house where I grew up… the sound of the waves gently lapping at the shore… and I know I could hear the waves if I went to the beach here, yet it is still not quite the same.”

“I’ve got a list of things that I miss in my head,” Jason admitted quietly.

“Tell me about it,” Pythagoras urged. “Tell me about the place that you came from. What do you miss the most?”

“Rain,” Jason answered. “Where I come from it rains a lot… and it’s colder than it is here.”

“That sounds… unpleasant,” Pythagoras said.

“It’s not so bad when you get used to it,” Jason responded. “I don’t actually like being out in the rain all that much, but I love the smell of the air once it clears and the way it makes everything feel fresh and new. Besides, you appreciate the nice weather more if it’s not hot all the time.”

“What else?” Pythagoras asked.

“Mostly it’s little things,” Jason said. “Stupid things like coffee or tea. They’re drinks,” he clarified, spotting Pythagoras’ confused look. “I never went hungry there though… or had to fear for my life.” He paused. “I never killed anyone before I came here,” he confessed.

Pythagoras sighed.

“Do you regret leaving your home and coming here?” he asked gently.

“No,” Jason protested. “No, I…” he broke off and thought about it for a moment, actually considering Pythagoras’ question seriously. “No,” he repeated more slowly. “I don’t regret coming here. I’ve gained so much… You and Hercules… you’ve been amazing. It’s just the little things that still trip me up… I just don’t always know what I’m doing here.” He swallowed past the lump in his throat. “It sometimes feels like I screw everything up. I don’t always understand but I still try to do the right thing… only half the time it turns out to be wrong… or at least it goes wrong… and we end up in a worse position than where we started… and it just feels like I’m drowning,” he choked out.

Pythagoras sighed again and rested his head back against the wall. He looked at Jason sideways, without turning his head.

“We all feel lost from time to time,” he said. “The trick is not to let those feelings overwhelm us. I know you are stronger than this. What we face we face together. Whatever the odds we will win out. I know you miss your home and I wish I could make it easier on you… but you will endure and you will get through this. It is alright to be sad about what you have lost. All I ask is that you do not shut me out. That you allow me to help you as you have helped me in the past.” He turned to face Jason fully. “You once told me that this is what friends are for – to save you… even if it is saving you from yourself. Let me share some of your burden and make it easier to bear. Your soul is weighed down by sorrow. Share it with me and you will find it becomes lighter.”

“You really believe that?”

“I do,” Pythagoras confirmed. “Tell me what worries you and what makes you sad. Let me in. Tell me a little about where you come from and what you miss about it. I cannot promise to be able to replicate it but I will do my best. There may be something that I can find in Atlantis that will give you a little of the home you miss.”

“You’d do that for me?” Jason asked, his voice catching slightly.

“Of course,” Pythagoras responded. “You are my friend.”

For a moment Jason looked like he might burst into tears. Then he launched himself at Pythagoras, wrapping his arms around his friend and burying his face in the mathematician’s shoulder. Pythagoras looked a little startled for a moment. He was used to providing comfort by means of a hand on the shoulder or arm, or a simple one-armed hug but Jason had never really been the touchy-feely sort so he had refrained from wrapping his arms around his friend on many occasions. Now though Jason was almost clinging to him limpet-like. Pythagoras smiled reassuringly and brought his hands up to pet his friend’s hair and rub up and down Jason’s back comfortingly.

“Thank you,” Jason’s voice was muffled by Pythagoras’ shoulder; his warm breath tickling the mathematician’s collarbone. “I don’t know what I did right to deserve your friendship but I’m glad it was your window I fell in through. I’ve never met anyone as kind as you are. I’ve never met anyone that would put up with me like this.”

“Trust me,” Pythagoras murmured. “I am just as grateful that it was my window you fell through. You and Hercules… you’re my only real family and I love you both.”

“What about Arcas? “

“Arcas and I will never be close I fear… and for that I must bear a share of the blame. I care for him but we are too different. He has too much of our father in him… too much of his anger. I hope he is happy and that the life he makes for himself is good… but I cannot truly say that I miss him. It is a sad thing to admit but you are more my brother than he is.”

“I’m sorry,” Jason murmured drawing back from Pythagoras to sit shoulder to shoulder with the mathematician, although he left one arm in place around the young genius’ back. Pythagoras allowed his own arm to rest around his friend’s shoulders so that they sat curled up together, connected warmly down one side.

“Do not be,” Pythagoras answered. “It is as much my choice as Arcas’ and it is my sorrow to bear.”

“Yeah but I’ve been too wrapped up in my own problems lately,” Jason argued. “Besides, didn’t you just tell me that I should share my sorrows with you? Surely that means you should share yours with me too?”

“Perhaps,” Pythagoras acknowledged with a soft smile. “But my somewhat distant relationship with my brother is a subject for another time.” He gave Jason a shrewd look. “I know how good you are at hiding your own feelings and problems by concentrating on helping another… but not this time. You have been too unhappy for too long and I will not allow it to go on any further. Tell me about your life before and about where you come from… tell me what you miss the most.”

Jason pondered for a moment. There were things he would naturally have to conceal; things he could never tell Pythagoras about and could never explain. But it would feel good to be able to talk about his past a little; to add a little meat to their bone-strong but sometimes remarkably fleshless friendship.

“Alright,” he said. “But it might take some time.”

“Good,” Pythagoras smiled. “Wait here,” he added.

“Why?”

“If we are likely to be here some time then I would prefer it if we made ourselves comfortable,” the mathematician said.

He pushed himself to his feet and trotted back into the house, returning a few minutes later with the pillows and blankets off both their beds.

“The evening is growing chilly,” he said thrusting the pile at Jason, “and I for one do not wish to be cold.” He paused. “I think we will need another cup,” he said looking at the wine flagon, “and perhaps a little bread to soak up the alcohol.”

“I’ve already got a second cup,” Jason admitted, pulling one out from where it had been hidden by his legs. “There was one already out here when I got here and I couldn’t be bothered to go and put the second cup away again.”

Pythagoras was gratified to see the beginnings of a smile forming on his friend’s lips as he made a nest of the bedding – just a faint quirking upwards at the corners. It was far from a full blown Jason smile but it was a start.

Suddenly the brunette looked up with an apologetic frown.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered urgently.

“For what?” Pythagoras asked with some confusion.

“What with seeing that bowl and everything… I ended up forgetting to get any bread.”

Pythagoras chuckled.

“Do not worry,” he said. “It is not important at this precise moment.” He curled up into the nest of pillows and blankets his friend had made and poured them both a cup of wine. “Now talk,” he said.


	5. Acceptance

 

Jason stood at the edge of the balcony looking out over the street as he had done so many times over the last few months. The morning sun was not yet hot enough to be stifling and a soft breeze lightly ruffled his curls. He supposed that after the last few days he really ought to be trying to catch up on a little sleep but he was still just a little too awake to truly rest, although a peaceful lassitude swept over him as he stood watching the world go by; a contentment that sank deeply into him and that came from the knowledge that they had once again survived against the odds and had returned home intact at the end of it. Well, relatively intact, he reminded himself with a slight frown as his side twinged. He supposed he should get Pythagoras to look at the injury above his hip, certainly the mathematician would be cross if he didn’t, but right at this moment Jason just couldn’t be bothered to move. The slight burning ache died down after a minute anyway and he pushed it from his mind.

They had done it! Against all the odds they had saved Ariadne from the brazen bull and restored her to her rightful place in the Palace of Atlantis. Jason smiled softly to himself at the thought of the beautiful Princess – memories of the night he had spent in her bed (completely innocently of course – although he suspected that Minos, if God forbid he ever found out, would never believe that) swirling in his head; the warmth in her dark eyes when he had awoken to find her watching him; the determination on her face as she had insisted on treating his wound; the gentleness of her touch; the softness of her lips against his; the way the early morning sunlight had shone in her hair. She was perfect and so far out of his league that he still found it incredible that she seemed to feel the same way about him that he felt about her.

“Are you alright?”

Pythagoras’ concerned voice startled Jason from his reverie. He considered the question seriously for a moment and then turned with a contented smile to face his friend.

“Yeah,” he said. “I am.”

Pythagoras scrutinised him with a slightly worried frown.

“I thought that you might be upset,” he ventured.

Jason blinked in confusion.

“Why?” he asked. “For once everything’s gone quite well. Circe and Heptarian are dead, Pasiphae’s defeated, the King has recovered and Ariadne’s safe… and _we_ survived. Why would I be upset?”

“Well Minos did essentially warn you off,” Pythagoras answered gently. “I know he offered you that purse of gold… and I do not think Hercules will forget that you turned it down for some time… but he also made sure that you knew that Ariadne was off limits. I do not think he would be forgiving if you attempt to go near her again.”

Jason chuckled lightly.

“I never exactly expected him to welcome me with open arms,” he said. “Ariadne’s way out of my league… I’ve always known that… and I don’t exactly see her every day. But, whatever her father thinks, it’s how Ariadne feels that’s important to me. If we’re meant to be together then we’ll find a way no matter what the King or anyone else thinks about it.”

“The King’s displeasure is not something to be trifled with,” Pythagoras warned.

“I know,” Jason answered. “All that matters right now though, is that Ariadne is safe. She was willing to give up her life to protect me… I won’t forget that.”

Pythagoras moved across the floor to stand next to his friend, resting his forearms on the edge of the balcony and looking out over the street, his posture mirroring Jason’s.

“I had thought that you might have been resting as I was earlier,” he said at length. “After all it has been a long few days.”

“It has,” Jason acknowledged. “I was a bit too awake to sleep though.”

“Something troubles you?”

“No. For once everything’s good. I just wasn’t ready to sleep.”

“Is Hercules still in bed?” Pythagoras asked.

“No,” Jason answered. “He got up a while ago. He’s gone out. Apparently he had to see a man about a beetle.”

Pythagoras raised one eyebrow.

“A beetle,” he said flatly.

“Yep,” Jason responded.

“Oh Gods! Does that mean that we’re going to have a house that stinks of horse dung _again_?” Pythagoras protested.

“We live with Hercules,” Jason pointed out. “How would you know the difference?”

He caught Pythagoras’ eye and they both dissolved into laughter for a moment. It felt good to relax after the stress of the recent days, Jason decided. He looked at Pythagoras and grinned broadly, draping an arm easily around his friend’s shoulders.

“Feels good to be home,” he said.

“It does,” Pythagoras agreed. “Although we will soon need to search for work once again. Our funds are a little lower than I would like.”

“I managed to tuck a few coins away after that last job,” Jason responded cheerfully. “I thought we might need them to tide us over at some point. I’ve got them hidden.”

Pythagoras grimaced.

“You _had_ them hidden,” he corrected. “I fear that if you went to look you would find your money is missing.”

Jason frowned.

“Has Hercules been stealing again?” he asked.

“He prefers to think of it as borrowing,” Pythagoras murmured in response.

“It’s the same thing as far as he’s concerned,” Jason said dryly. “He never seems to manage to pay anything he ‘borrows’ back after all.”

“No,” Pythagoras agreed with wry humour. “No he does not.”

Jason rolled his eyes and began to stretch, breaking off as his side twinged again. Pythagoras’ eyes narrowed suspiciously but before he could comment Jason turned to face him fully.

“Changing the subject slightly I think I could probably do with your help,” he said softly.

“Is this the sort of help that will require me to fetch bandages?” Pythagoras responded perceptively, his sharp eyes automatically probing his friend for injuries.

He should have done this sooner, he berated himself. Possibly as soon as they had returned to the city, but at the time Jason had been all fired up about saving Ariadne once more. The head injury he had suffered and the myriad of small cuts, scrapes and bruises that littered his exposed skin had been known quantities – things that Pythagoras felt were not especially worrying and were certainly not slowing Jason down. He was moving as easily and fluidly as ever, and had not seemed to be in any significant pain so the possibility of an unknown hidden injury had not even occurred to Pythagoras. Then, when everything was all over, he had been tired – the strain of the last few days catching up with him – and all he had wanted to do was seek his own bed, believing that both his friends would follow suit and knowing that the rest would do them all good. He pursed his lips. He knew Jason’s tendency to ignore injuries if he felt the situation demanded it. He should have insisted on examining his friend earlier.

Jason started slightly. He really shouldn’t be surprised at Pythagoras’ intuition, he told himself. After all the man _was_ a genius.

“Possibly,” he answered. “I don’t _think_ I’m still bleeding but I could probably do with a clean bandage. I think the one I’ve got is probably going to be a bit grubby.”

Pythagoras’ eyes widened.

“What have you done?” he asked urgently. “How are you injured?”

“Arrow. Left side. Just above my hip,” Jason answered. “It’s not too bad to be honest but I’d like you check it if you don’t mind.”

“You were shot,” Pythagoras said flatly. “How? When? Why did you not tell me sooner?”

“At the time I was a bit busy,” Jason said. “And it really doesn’t feel all that bad. It just aches a bit… and pulls when I stretch too far.”

Pythagoras rolled his eyes and sighed.

“Sit down,” he instructed firmly. “I will go and fetch supplies while you remove your breastplate and tunic.” He paused for a moment. “Actually, why _do_ you still have your breastplate on? We are at home and there are no enemies here.”

Jason rubbed one hand along his jaw, frowning at the rough rasp of stubble – he really needed to shave again. Despite Hercules’ assertion that they should grow beards and flee whenever trouble came, Jason really didn’t fancy full facial hair – it would be too itchy for a start.

“I was enjoying the sunshine,” he answered. “I just couldn’t be bothered to summon up the energy to move and take it off.”

He sat down on the edge of the table (knowing that the stools on the balcony were just a little too low for Pythagoras to be able to treat him without bending and wanting to spare his friend any discomfort because of him) and began to unlace his armour. Pythagoras turned and went back inside to gather bandages, water and several pre-prepared salves (living with Jason and Hercules had taught him the benefit of forward planning where injuries were concerned) and some healing herbs.

By the time he returned, Jason had removed his breastplate and was sitting on the table top, his legs swinging, his eyes closed and his face turned towards the sun with a peaceful expression. He had not, however, removed his tunic as instructed. Pythagoras’ eyes were drawn to the fairly significant blood stain near Jason’s waist on the left side of his tunic – a stain that stretched down towards the bottom hem. How had he not noticed it before?

“Most of it was hidden by my breastplate and the hilt of my sword,” Jason said without opening his eyes. “Plus you had other things to think about. First we were trying to find a way to stop Circe from killing us all and then we were trying to rescue Ariadne and escape from the guards.”

Pythagoras blinked. He hadn’t realised he had spoken out loud. He stepped forwards and set his supplies down on the table next to Jason. Jason lazily opened his eyes to watch his friend.

“How far did the arrow go in?” Pythagoras asked as he laid a couple of strips of bandaging flat on the surface of the table and organised his supplies and equipment.

“Erm… about that far,” Jason answered, holding his thumb and forefinger a couple of inches apart. “I managed to pull it out alright.”

Pythagoras frowned. That was further in than he would have liked although perhaps not as far as he had feared. Still, he reflected, Jason had been lucky that it had clearly not hit anything vital. He gestured impatiently for Jason to remove his top.

“How did you come to be shot?” he asked, beginning to unwind the decidedly grubby bandage from around Jason’s waist.

“I meant to kill Pasiphae,” Jason said softly – reflectively. “I made it into her chambers and stood above her while she slept with my sword in my hand… but I couldn’t do it.” He caught Pythagoras’ eyes with an almost apologetic look. “I’m not a murderer.”

“I know,” Pythagoras responded kindly. “Nobody ever thought you were. I know how heavily Circe’s deal weighed on you but I do not believe that you have it in you to take a life in cold blood… and I mean that as a compliment.”

Jason swallowed and nodded.

“I stepped back into the shadows and prepared to leave but the Queen woke up,” he said. “She saw me… or at least she saw a shape in the darkness lurking near her bed… and she started to scream for the guards. I ran. I was making my way back to the courtyard to re-join you two when one of the guards appeared at the other end of the corridor I was in. He got a lucky shot in.” He flicked a half-smile at Pythagoras. “I hid until he’d gone past, pulled the arrow out and made it to the rendezvous point but you and Hercules had already gone so I had to look for another way to escape. Anyway I ended up in Ariadne’s chambers and she hid me. When she realised I was bleeding she insisted on dressing the wound… but it must have come open again as I escaped the Palace the next morning. I mean I knew it was probably still seeping when I got home – I could see that the stain on my shirt was a bit bigger than it had been under the edge of my breastplate – and it _was_ a bit sore… but I didn’t realise how much it had bled until we all went to bed and I took my breastplate off and found the bandage had soaked through. Only by then you’d gone to bed and I… well… I didn’t want to wake you. I knew what I had to do. I knew I was going to face Circe alone… and I didn’t want to risk that plan by waking you up. It would have made it harder for me to sedate you when the time came. So I just re-bandaged it myself and hoped for the best. I’d actually forgotten all about it until just now.”

Pythagoras pursed his lips and shot Jason an exasperated look.

“Quite apart from the fact that you should not have sedated either Hercules or me and should in fact have woken me up when you discovered the wound was still bleeding, you should have said something while I was seeing to the cut on your arm after you defeated Circe. Any sort of injury can fester if it is not treated properly.”

Jason shrugged as Pythagoras began to unwind the last layer of bandaging, pleased to note that only a little blood seemed to have seeped into the cloth.

“I really did forget about it,” Jason protested mildly. “It wasn’t hurting at the time.”

“Hmm,” Pythagoras murmured noncommittally, grabbing a damp cloth and beginning to carefully wipe away the streaks of dried blood from his friend’s midriff to allow him to see the wound more clearly. “I suspect you were still somewhat excited and emotional following the confrontation with Circe and that this may have masked any pain. Does it hurt now?”

Jason shrugged again.

“A bit,” he admitted. “Like I said before, it sort of aches and there’s a sharp stab if I stretch too far.”

Pythagoras nodded absently, his attention focussed on his friend’s wound. As Jason had said, it was located low on his side, only just above his hip. Pythagoras probed the area carefully, wiping away as much of the dried blood as he could, checking for signs of infection. He was relieved to realise that the wound itself looked clean; the skin around it a normal, healthy colour when all the blood had been wiped away and cool to touch.

“Sorry,” he murmured as Jason flinched, his probing fingers clearly catching an area that was a little more tender.

“It’s fine,” Jason answered.

“It appears clean enough,” Pythagoras said softly, “and there is no sign of infection.” He hesitated for a moment. “Ideally I would like to insert a stitch or two to aid in the closure,” he added.

Jason pulled a face.

“Does it really need it?” he enquired. “Do you really have to?”

The idea of someone sewing him up without any form of anaesthetic was distinctly unappealing.

“No,” Pythagoras answered slowly. “It would help the wound to heal more quickly and decrease the risk of you reopening it, that is all. There would also be less chance of infection.” He paused for a moment, taking note of his friend’s reluctance. “I have a salve that will largely numb the skin,” he said softly. “There would be some discomfort but it would not be painful as such.”

“You do?” Jason asked, blinking in surprise. Although he had learned over the months that Pythagoras’ herbal remedies were surprisingly effective, as far as he knew there was no such thing as anaesthetic in ancient Greece – that was still many centuries away.

“Of course,” Pythagoras answered as though the answer was obvious.

He was wearing his ‘Jason, don’t be such an idiot’ expression again – the one that he got when he clearly thought Jason should know something and didn’t.

“There are many herbs with numbing properties,” the young genius went on. “Do you not have proper medicine where you come from?” He looked genuinely curious.

“Yes of course,” Jason answered a little defensively. “It’s just that I didn’t know you had it here. Everything’s so different here.”

Pythagoras looked down. He had thought over the last few weeks that Jason had seemed more settled; that his friend had finally seemed to be completely comfortable and at ease.

“I am sorry,” he said in a small voice.

“Don’t be,” Jason said, covering Pythagoras’ pale hand with his own tanned one. He smiled. “Different isn’t necessarily a bad thing. I like it here.”

Pythagoras returned his smile.

“I am glad,” he said gently.

“So,” Jason said lightly, “are you going to practice your embroidery on me or not?”

Pythagoras huffed a quick chuckle.

“Perhaps I should embroider my name so that people would know where to return you the next time you do something foolish and get yourself knocked out?” he answered equally lightly, as he scooped some sort of salve out of a small pot and slathered it around the wound. “There,” he said, wiping his hands on a cloth. “We must give that a little time to start working.”

Jason grinned.

“Why your name and not Hercules’?” he asked. “It’s his house after all – as he’s fond of telling us.”

Pythagoras raised an eyebrow, his blue eyes sparkling with amusement.

“Do you really want ‘property of Hercules’ written on you?” he asked. “He would take credit for everything you do.”

“He already does that,” Jason snorted, although the ripple of laughter in his voice and the twinkle in his eyes told Pythagoras that he was only playing.

“Indeed,” Pythagoras responded. “He might take it into his head to gamble you in his next dice game as he does so often with his shirt. There are men all over this city who have tunics that used to belong to Hercules… I would not wish the same fate to befall you.”

Jason giggled. There really was no other word for it, Pythagoras decided as he checked the cuts and scrapes on his friend’s upper arms. It was not the sort of laugh that he would ever have expected to hear from a grown man and yet it suited Jason, he concluded.

“That would be… inconvenient,” Jason agreed. He tried valiantly (and unsuccessfully) to restrain the bubble of laughter that sought to escape. The laugh turned into a faint wince, however, as Pythagoras turned his attention to the contusion at Jason’s left temple, brushing his fingers against the injury.

“Sorry,” the mathematician murmured again, his eyes growing sympathetic.

The bruise that was forming at his friend’s temple, running up into his hairline, was truly spectacular and Pythagoras was in no doubt whatsoever that it was very sore to touch. He was actually more than a little surprised, if the truth be told, that Jason wasn’t exhibiting more signs of a nasty headache. Almost absently Pythagoras scooped up another small dollop of the numbing salve and began to smooth it over the bruising, keeping his touch as light as possible as his fingers did their work.

“I would take it as a kindness, Jason, if you would attempt to refrain from further injury for the next few days at least,” he said with mock sternness.

Jason’s eyes went very wide and innocent looking – the ridiculous puppy dog expression that he got from time to time which always made Pythagoras chuckle. Pythagoras felt his lips twitching automatically in response and tried to school his features into a stern expression.

“I am serious, Jason,” he said.

“I’ll certainly try my hardest,” Jason responded, his eyes dancing.

Pythagoras rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to the arrow wound in his friend’s side. He judged that skin would be numb enough now to attempt to stitch it without causing Jason any undue pain. Reaching down to probe the area one last time (to ensure that it really was as numb as he hoped), the mathematician’s fingers accidentally trailed down Jason’s side. Jason jerked slightly beneath his hand. Pythagoras stopped instantly.

“I am sorry,” he apologised. “I thought that the salve would have taken effect by now.”

“You’re not hurting me,” Jason said quickly.

“Then what is it?” Pythagoras asked with concern.

“It just tickled a bit,” Jason answered.

He knew he had made a mistake the instant he saw the look of mischief that came into Pythagoras’ eyes and inwardly groaned.

“You are ticklish?” the mathematician asked, clearly filing the information away for use at a further date.

“A bit,” Jason admitted reluctantly. “Don’t tell Hercules though,” he implored.

“Why not?” Pythagoras asked as he began to ready his needle and thread.

“Well for one thing I don’t think he’d ever let me hear the end of it,” Jason answered, “and for another I have a feeling that he might use it against me the next time he wants something.”

“So what would you agree to, to get someone to stop tickling you? Or to keep this information to themselves?” Pythagoras enquired brightly as he wiped the wound one last time.

“What do you mean?” Jason asked nervously.

“I was thinking that I might trade some household chores in return for not telling Hercules,” Pythagoras answered. “The house could do with a general tidy.”

Jason’s eyes opened very wide.

“That’s blackmail!” he exclaimed.

“Yes,” Pythagoras responded, eyes dancing with mirth. “It is both mean and unscrupulous.” He chuckled and laid an affectionate hand on Jason’s shoulder. “Do not worry, my friend. Your secret is safe with me,” he said. “Although I could use a hand around the house,” he added.

His face grew serious once more.

“Are you ready?” he asked.

“Sure,” Jason responded.

He changed his mind though as Pythagoras began the task of stitching the injury closed. The wound might be numb (a fact that Jason was very grateful for right now) but the sight of the needle dipping into and out of his skin made Jason feel distinctly queasy. He swallowed hard and looked up at the ceiling.

Pythagoras gave Jason a knowing look.

“Do you know this is the second arrow wound of yours that I have treated in a matter of months,” he said lightly, trying to draw his friend’s concentration away from the needle and thread. “If I might be so bold I would suggest that perhaps you and archers do not mix and you should endeavour to avoid them in the future.”

Jason huffed a startled laugh.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said.

“Please do,” Pythagoras said primly. “I do get so bored of having to try to put you back together again.”

He grinned up at Jason.

Jason smiled back. Then he caught sight of the needle again and gulped, going slightly green. He had never really been all _that_ fond of seeing blood or injuries to be completely honest. He looked away again quickly.

“I’ve been thinking about something the Oracle said,” he said, looking out across the street and keeping his eyes resolutely away from what Pythagoras was doing. The salve the mathematician had used might have numbed his side but the sensation of the needle passing in and out was still disturbing and more than a little uncomfortable.

“And?” Pythagoras said, still concentrating on keeping his stitches small and even. The wound might only need a few stitches to keep it closed but he had no intention of being slapdash where his friend’s health was concerned.

“It was when I went to see her before we rescued Ariadne. I wanted to thank her for everything she’s done for me because I didn’t know if I’d get the chance to again,” Jason murmured. “She already knew that I was planning on rescuing Ariadne though.”

“Well of course,” Pythagoras answered bluntly. “She is the Oracle. She sees the future.”

“Hmm,” Jason said. “When I told her that Ariadne was willing to give up her life to protect me and that I wasn’t going to let that happen… that I was going to rescue her or die trying… the Oracle smiled. She seemed pleased with me. When I asked her why, she said that there was a time when I would go to her to ask her what I should do but that now I was choosing my own path… She’s right.” He paused for a moment. “When I first came here everything felt so familiar and yet I knew so little about this place. I was lost and all I really wanted was someone to tell me what to do… what my purpose was… I still don’t always know what I’m meant to do but you know what? It’s alright because I don’t need to know what the future will hold to know that this is where I belong.”

Pythagoras smiled.

“I am glad you have come to call Atlantis home,” he said softly. He cut the thread he was sewing with and reached into another small pot, slathering the closed wound with a salve to stave off infection. With quick fingers he laid a dressing over the top and wrapped a clean bandage around his friend’s waist. “There,” he said. “You are done. I will prepare a painkilling tonic later.”

Jason frowned.

“It’s not hurting,” he protested.

“Perhaps not now,” Pythagoras answered, “but I suspect it will sting somewhat once the numbness has worn away. The very act of stitching the wound will cause a little discomfort in the coming hours… although I hope that any pain will be short lived.”

Jason slipped his tunic over his head and turned back to Pythagoras with a bright grin, dimples showing. He slid off the table and caught his mathematically inclined friend up in a one-armed hug. Pythagoras gave a startled squeak before responding to Jason’s apparently exuberant affection with a hug of his own.

“There are still things I miss about where I used to live,” Jason admitted, “and there probably always will be.”

“I know,” Pythagoras responded.

“But do you know what? This is home. _My_ _home_. I never thought I’d say that about anywhere… never thought I’d find a place where I fit in… and it’s good.”

Pythagoras smiled affectionately.

“Come on,” he said softly. “Let’s go inside. There are things to be done… after you have caught up on some sleep that is,” he added eyeing the yawn that his friend stifled.

“What sort of things?” Jason asked with a certain amount of suspicion.

“Well for a start the sheets need folding,” Pythagoras answered, “and I believe that the shelves could do with a proper clean and tidy so that I can start making an inventory of our supplies. Oh, and we have washing to be done and the area around your bed is an absolute mess…”

He grinned at Jason’s answering groan and could not resist reaching out to lightly tickle his friend’s uninjured side, laughing as Jason squirmed and tried to put some distance between them.

“That’s mean,” Jason said, although the sparkle in his eyes showed he did not mind the teasing.

“Yes,” Pythagoras answered. “But that is what friends are for.”

“To torment me?”

“To share joys and sorrows,” Pythagoras corrected, “and everything else in between.”

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Art for "Everything Else In Between"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6677662) by [Gryph](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gryph/pseuds/Gryph)




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